


a tough sell

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, M/M, Secret Identity (Sorta), Tony's just a little bit ridiculous, also they're both Arthurian nerds, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 16:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: au where tony stark keeps trying to get this artist called nomad to sell a few pieces but the man keeps refusing so tony tracks him down to convince him in person





	a tough sell

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my best, no where close to it, but its 2am and i just /gestures ya know as i toss this out there/ standard apology for gaffes, goofs, and groan-worthy errors
> 
> This one's for Stevie, i hope this is worth the $1 XD

Tony’s on the other side of thirty five, therefore he knows it’s not mature to throw a (mild) temper tantrum when Pepper starts to say, “About those Nomad paintings you asked me to look into...” It’s just not done at his age.

So instead, Tony takes a deep breath, tells himself this is fine, this is fine, this is absolutely fine. He just closes his eyes, doesn’t pinch the bridge of his nose, and refrains from cursing. “He’s not selling?”

“Not at all,” Pepper’s voice is heavy with apology. 

“Not even when you-”

“Not even after I offered triple the value.”

So what if he can’t buy these paintings. It’s okay. It happens. That’s life. Some people can’t be bought. It’s not the end of the world that he can’t buy the series of Arthurian paintings that’ve stolen his heart because of their color use and almost tender depiction of King Arthur. It’s fine.  _ It’s fine _ . Life is full of disappointments after all.

“He turned you down to your face?” Tony asks, leaning back in his chair as he continues to muse. “He’s got moxie. Not a lot of people can say no to you when you’re trying to convince them.”

Crystal clear silence rings in his ear in response. Tony pauses mid-lean, causing the chair to creak a little. “Pepper? You  _ did  _ talk to the guy in person... right?”

“No. I talked to his  _ agent _ . The agent was pretty firm.”

“But you didn’t talk to Nomad yourself?”

There’s a plan forming in Tony’s mind. A plan so devilishly simple he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. Unfortunately, Pepper, having known him for as long as she has, catches on fast and immediately, sternly, tells him, “Tony.  _ No _ .”

“I’m just going to have a little chat with him. Man to man. Potential customer to seller.”

“Tony...” Pepper sighs tiredly. She’s probably massaging her forehead right about now. 

Tony pushes on, “I promise it’ll be purely in a personal capacity. I won’t pull the company into it.” And for good measure he adds on, “And I promise I won’t do anything that’ll embarrass him  _ or  _ me.”

“Nothing that’ll wind up on the front page of any tabloid, break twitter,  _ or  _ result in Babbitt fielding calls from reporters.”

Grinning in triumph, Tony answers, “Done. Now, tell me where can I meet the guy?”

\--

The plan is simple. Tony’s going to be find Nomad at this art show, accidentally bump into him, convince him it would be in Nomad’s best interest to sell a few paintings, and Tony’ll be the owner of (hopefully) the three pieces he’d had his eye on. It shouldn’t be  _ too  _ hard if he’s lucky.

It’s an exclusive little showing this; invitation-only. Tony glances at the crowd, hoping he doesn’t run into any familiar faces. Most people in his circle hire buyers or companies to buy their art for them but you never know. At the same time, he looks around for the man of the hour, Nomad. The man is a bit of a recluse, mildly unusual when you consider the New York scene. Most artists are happy to jump in front of a camera in the hopes of getting their 15 seconds of fame but Nomad has shied away from the spotlight. 

Tony glances down at the brochure he’d gotten at the door; it’s a brief description of Arthurian legends which had inspired Nomad to make this new series of his. At the end, there’s a little black and white sketch of the man himself; small, head too big for his body,frail-looking. He looks in need of a good meal honestly. Tony looks around the room once again in search of someone who matches the sketch but no luck.

_ Maybe he’s in another part of the gallery. Or maybe he’s late...  _

Resigning himself to waiting, Tony decides to make the most of it and enjoy the paintings. He turns to the closest piece, a delicate portrayal of Guinevere meeting Lancelot; love and melancholy almost jumping off the canvas. Next is a painting of Merlin, whimsical and terrifying at the same time thanks to the incredible shadow and highlight work. Tony almost forgets his ‘mission’ as he moves from piece to piece, unaware and uncaring of the emotions he’s showing and whose attention he’s caught. 

He’s standing in front of his favorite piece, the one he wants to hang in his bedroom suite, a  _ massive _ painting done on three canvas’ depicting Arthur’s journey, from a young boy to king. Tony stands in front of the third piece, marveling at how Nomad has connected these three pieces together despite the fact that they’re so different. But it seems to him that something missing...

Tony’s pondering this when someone next to him asks, “Do you like this piece?”

He glances to his left and just  _ barely  _ stops from doing a double take because the man who’s asked him that question? Is  _ gorgeous _ . He’s probably an inch or two taller than Tony and twice as buff, wearing a leather jacket that cuts low enough to accentuate his broad shoulders  _ and  _ slim hips. And then there’s those dark jeans that Tony wants to peel off those muscular thighs with his  _ teeth _ . Tony’s  _ so glad  _ he wore this turtleneck without a jacket now.

Licking his dry lips, Tony sternly tells himself to behave (he promised Pepper after all), and says, “I love it. But I can’t help but feel it’s incomplete.”

The man visibly starts, blue eyes widening as he asks, “What makes you think that? I mean, it goes from Arthur pulling the sword out of the stone to being a king. That’s the journey.”

Tony makes a face, “Not the  _ whole  _ journey. There’s a lot more to Arthur’s story than just becoming king. Arguably, more happens  _ after  _ he gets the crown. I think this piece needed two, maybe three more events from Arthur’s life to make it complete.”

Tony blinks in surprise when the man takes a step forward, excitement gleaming in his pretty eyes as he asks, “Which two or three?”

“Uh...” 

Now Tony’s been told before that he’s got pretty eyes. In fact, the word used most often is ‘arresting’ and ‘captivating.’ He hasn’t understood how someones eyes could be  _ that  _ until now. Tony feels caught in this man’s eager gaze, happily helpless and grateful for the attention actually. 

It’s a struggle to look back at the paintings and consider the question seriously. “I guess... I guess I’d include Guinevere in some way, maybe him receiving Excalibur, definitely his final fight with Mordred, and... and his death.” 

Tony gets the impression he’s given the right answer because the guy looks positively  _ delighted  _ by Tony’s answer. He nods eagerly (it kind of reminds Tony of a puppy actually, his enthusiasm and exuberance). “I was thinking when Lancelot brings Guinevere to Camelot, the battle with Mordred, and then his death. But it’s a lot of work. Plus, a little repetitive when you take that piece into consideration.”

He follows the nod the man gives in the direction Lancelot and Guinevere painting hanging a couple of walls down. Tony snorts a little. “I guess but it’s completely different themes. That piece,” Tony points at the painting in question, “it’s about love versus duty. Here, it’s like part of Arthur’s journey. Totally different moods. Just because it’s the same general topic doesn’t mean it has to  _ feel  _ the same. Arthur’s view of the wedding would be different than how Lancelot and Guinevere felt. That’d change everything.”

The blond blinks, turns to look at the paintings, and mutters, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Which is kind of a peculiar thing to say. In fact, this whole conversation has been just a little  _ off _ . Tony frowns a little while the other guy continues to contemplate the paintings. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself.” He holds his hand out towards the guy. “Tony Stark.”

The blond grasps his hand in a firm handshake. No ring finger on his left hand. There’s a little dab of green between his index and second finger. “Steve Rogers. Um. If you don’t mind me saying, I didn’t expect you’d be into...this.”

Tony laughs as Steve lets go of his hand. “Art?”

“King Arthur,” Steve corrects him.

“As much as I love the future and all it has to hold, I’ll always have a huge soft spot for knights and King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.” Tony shoots the paintings a fond look, thinking back to the days where he’d make armor out of cardboard boxes and pretend he was Sir Galahad on a grand quest. Shaking the memories away, he shoots Steve a playful grin. “Is it that strange?”

“Not strange. Just ... unexpected.” Steve grins back. “It’s a bit of a niche thing, Arthurian legends.”

Tony hums in agreement. “I suppose so. But they’ve got a romantic element to them that appeals to a broader consumer base. You’ve got the whole love triangle thing, and the whole knights and heroes side... Clearly the people love it.” He gestures at the crowd around them. 

A bashful smile pulls Steve’s lips up. “Yeah. I can see why people’d like it.”

And there’s that feeling of  _ off, wrong, weird  _ again. Tony frowns a little as he studies Steve, who is glancing around the crowd now as though he’s looking for someone. Steve’s implying a certain level of familiarity that implies he’s got a connection to the pieces. Could he be Nomad’s agent? No, that can’t be right. Pepper had said Nomad’s agent was a woman. 

A wilder possibility springs up in Tony’s mind when he sees another dot of color peeking out from under the crisp white of Steve’s t-shirt. It’s a half-rubbed off streak of purple that matches the highlights on the Black Knight’s armor. Now that he’s paying closer attention, there are some similarities between the artist sketch and the man standing before him - it’s the eyes. There’s no mistaking them.

His mouth goes dry, causing his voice to drop lower than he’d planned when he asks, “Are you Nomad?”

Steve starts so bad he bumps into the velvet rope stanchion, causing the golden post to sway dangerously before it plonks back down into its place. Meanwhile Steve looks like Tony just goosed him or something. “No! No, I’m not!”

Wow that was... Tony can’t help but stare incredulously at the man because that was just  _ awful _ . “That was the least convincing lie I’ve heard in a long while.” 

Was that rude? That was probably a little rude. Steve looks a little miffed as well but the panic is still there. Tony just pulled the rug out from under him and he looks like he doesn’t know where to hide now. “Look,” Tony starts, wanting to reassure the man that he doesn’t have any ill intentions, “I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I just wanted to talk to you in person.”

“About buying my paintings, right?” Steve asks in return, voice so low that Tony has to take half a step forward to hear him. “Why do you want them so bad anyways?”

“Because they’re beautiful.”

Snorting, Steve retorts, “A lot of other artists can paint these stories for you. Why  _ me _ ?”

The way Steve asks it, you’d think he was asking some kind of trick question that’s going to trip Tony up. But that’s hardly the case. Tony just shakes his head and answers, “Because you captured the emotions of each scene. That one. You can feel how powerful and how amazing magic is. There, you can tell how torn Guinevere is between duty and love. You wouldn’t think to sympathize with Mordred but you do a little in there. Somehow you made a suit of armor look so noble and gallant, all without showing a face. That takes  _ talent _ .”

Taken aback by Tony’s answer as much as the speed with which Tony gives it, Steve takes a moment to regroup. His eyes bounce between the paintings and Tony, indecision written clear on his face. After a few seconds of intense staring at Arthur, Steve turns back to Tony. “Do you know why I don’t want to sell my paintings?”

“I honestly thought it was an artist thing,” Tony shrugs apologetically.

“It kind of is. I don’t want to sell them to someone who’s going to hang it up somewhere where people can’t see it. Where it can’t be experienced and appreciated. I know that’s a little egotistical but... I put a lot of love into my work. I don’t want to give them to someone who doesn’t love them as much.”

_ If that’s egotistical then _ ... “I’d like to think I love this particular collection of yours about as much as you do,” Tony retorts, leaning in closer to purr. “I can prove that if you’d like. Like say, over dinner maybe?”

Oh if Steve was shocked before he’s gobsmacked now. Though Tony’s not sure if its because of him turning his flirt on or... no, it’s probably just that. For a few long, painful seconds, Tony thinks he’s made a mistake. He’s blown whatever chance he had with Steve. Tony’s on the verge of apologizing when Steve’s startled expression starts to shift. 

With a weak smile, like he doesn’t know what’s the appropriate reaction to have when being flirted with, Steve says, “Well. I mean. The fact that you picked up that I had more planned for this particular display shows that you know your stuff.”

Ah. Does that mean no date? Pity. It isn’t often Tony falls head over heels for a man. And Steve’s such a fine specimen of a man at that. He’s thinking he can’t win them all. At least Steve seems open to selling his paintings to Tony. That’s something at least, right? But then Steve pulls something out of his pocket, a white card, and scribbles something on the back before he holds it out towards Tony. 

Tony stares at the card before he looks up at Steve. The tips of his ears have gone red and it looks like he’s being held together by pure determination right now but some embarrassment is creeping in through the cracks. “Call me. We’ll work out when we can go out for dinner. But I insist on paying.”

“You insist?” Tony echoes even as he accepts the card. He glances down at the number scribbled down, smiling a little at the neat block numbers. There’s something adorable about the curves of Steve’s writing; you wouldn’t expect a man like him to have such cute handwriting. God. Listen to him getting soft about another guy’s  _ handwriting _ . Pepper’s going to laugh till she throws up when Tony tells her about this. No wait. He’s  _ never  _ going to tell Pepper about this. EVER.

Steve nods, shoulders relaxing now that Tony’s accepted his offer. “I feel like that’s the least I can do after everything I’ve put you through.”

“Oh I don’t know. I’d say the end result made it all worthwhile,” Tony grins up at Steve as he tucks the card into his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> (PS - steve still doesnt sell the "Legend of Arthur" piece to tony [but he does finish it and surprise tony one day by putting it up in tony's bedroom without telling him {no matter what steve says, tony did NOT cry, okay???}])


End file.
